So, Michelle and I were having lunch together the other day, and we were talking about martyrdom. Michelle remarked cheerfully, "You know, I wouldn't mind being martyred, but I don't want to be all scared and meek; I want to go out with a 'tude!" I had to laugh at her idea, and laughed even more when she said, "Yeah, I want to tell the Communists "One-way ticket to heaven? Bring it on! No layovers!"
The idea brought a rhyme into my head at once and as we walked back to school I started spouting off lines that made her choke with laughter. When we reached the school I sat down and wrote this poem, with all Michelle's lively Californian flavor.
Note that "sick", in Michelle's California-verse, is equivalent to "cool..."
Sanctity + Attitude =...
Oh, I will sing to you today
A girl from Cali-for-ni-ay,
Who with her wit and humor great
Made all the Commies quite irate.
Her name, my friend, to you I'll tell,
As I've been told, it was Michelle.
She mocked the mindless modernists,
She mocked the evolutionists,
And when it came to Communists
She laughed and made all sorts of jists...
Her hair was long, her eyes were blue,
Her cheeks were pink as rose in dew,
And sure she was a lovely lass,
Who loved her prayers and Holy Mass.
The Commies watched her every day
With wrathful eye as she would pray
For every Commie to convert,
And oh, they swore they'd make her hurt!
They called her into court one day,
And unto her these words did say:
"You, girl, are very vehement
Against the people's government;
Are you a Catholic, Michelle?"
She answered coolly, "Can't ya tell?"
With rage they smacked her in the head,
She smiled, though her cheek was red,
But when her life they swore to snatch,
Grinned, "Throw me in that brier patch!"
"Your death," they warned, "will not be quick!"
"Slow martyrdom?" she chuckled."Sick!
A one-way pass to heaven's gate?
Bring it on, homie, I can't wait!"
They pulled her hair and beat her hard,
But never was she off her guard;
She laughed and teased and never feared,
And firmly thus she persevered.
At last they said, "You must be shot!"
She crossed herself and saddened not;
But as they signalled with a drum,
She called out, "Yo Lord -- here I come!"
And so to heaven she flew away,
So to Michelle now let us pray;
The Commies thought her very rude,
But I would call it -- sancti-'tude.